


Heal

by Amaria_Anna_D



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: COVID-19, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pandemic - Freeform, Passive-aggression, Quarantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaria_Anna_D/pseuds/Amaria_Anna_D
Summary: Frank and Matt have some issues to work through during lockdown.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 5
Kudos: 119





	Heal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Entropyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/gifts).



> For @entropyrose. Thank you for being my rock. Suggested listening "Heal" by Tom Odell.

Day 5

The entire apartment smelled so strongly of disinfectant and soap that even Frank’s nose was burning. Despite the mask covering his nose and the open windows, Matt had to be in agony, but—like the glutton for punishment he was—he was still taking the time to wipe down the backs of the cupboards they hadn’t opened in months. Frank was only able to bite his tongue because he knew this was his husband’s best substitute for beating street thugs into a coma. It was only when the cleaning got too close to his small arsenal in the bottom of the closet that he opened his mouth.

“Y’know, Red,” he drawled, leaning on the door frame, “I don’t exactly ask much when it comes to private space, but that box is off limits.”

Matt wrinkled his nose and his eyes fluttered in what Frank had come to realize was an attempt at rolling them. “I know what’s inside,” he huffed. “If I’d have wanted it gone, I would have taken it to the docks months ago.

“Not the point,” Frank said.

“So what is the point?” Matt asked, tossing an old, hole ridden pair of sweats into a trash bag.

“Point is: I don’t want it touched.” Though Frank had maybe an inch and half on Matt, he pulled up to his full height in a mock-attention stance. He wasn’t trying to intimidate Matt—God knew how well that worked out—but it was his best way of drawing a line in the sand without turning this into one hell of an argument. Frank knew better than to start a fight with his lawyer husband at the beginning of what could be a very long lockdown.

Matt toyed with the uneven string on a Columbia hoodie. “Fine,” he agreed without much emotion.

Day 13

“All I’m sayin’ is that she probably _DID_ feed her husband to a fucking tiger!” Frank finished off the last of the popcorn in the bowl, ignoring Max’s pleading eyes.

“That doesn’t excuse sending someone to kill her,” Matt pointed out with a loud yawn.

“Never said it did,” Frank murmured as he began kneading at the knots in Matt’s shoulders.

The blind man began to moan as strong fingers hit just the right spot. For the first time since probably forever, Matt’s aches were more from sitting around binge “watching” Netflix rather than jumping off buildings. It was one of many changes in Matt that Frank didn’t exactly bemoan. There was something about Matt Murdock attorney-at-law and horned vigilante settling in like a cat pawing at a cushion that appealed to Frank. Even his wardrobe had totally skewed from body armor and suits to sweat pants and Frank’s worn out Marines shirts. And god fucking forbid Frank even think of mentioning that the slightest hint of softening in his husband’s stomach was actually enticing as fuck. Everything about this felt so damned domesticated that it was easy to forget that there was a pandemic raging outside of their little cocoon.

Honestly, it felt wrong to feel so very contented on the edge of fucking disaster. Maybe it was easier or harder to deal with given that guns and billy clubs were useless against this enemy. It made it easy to agree to shelter in place given that it was the _ONLY_ thing they could do. With the soft edges of the moment gone, Frank offered to clean up the remains of their little junk food feast while Matt walked Max down to his favorite patch of grass.

Day 16

Frank’s scalp was split wide open. It would probably need stitches, but he’d make due with Matt’s slow suturing rather than Claire’s quick ones. Matt and Frank had both made a couple of trips out to handle “business” when something cropped up that Covid didn’t derail. Tonight, it had been a shipment of heroine that none other than the NYPD were providing security for. Frank would be lying to say that he hadn’t dealt with things a little more brutally than normal just so these pieces of shit wouldn’t take a single second from a New York hospital. He’d also be lying if he didn’t say he’d kept even more distance than normal so that he wouldn’t have to drag Claire away from someone or something more worthy than his hide. The graze on his noggin aside, he’d actually done a damn fine job of it too.

When he made it home, Matt was was waiting with their med kit open on the counter. Frank never bothered to ask the specifics of just how precise he was able to be from that far away, but it was enough that Matt started to pull on gloves and get out the needle.

Day 18

They made it eighteen fucking days without an argument. Frank had never counted days between them before, but he was pretty sure that was a record. Foggy’d made the joke more than once that he expected one of them to end up dead before they made it a decade together, and now, Frank was likely to agree.

“You can tell who’s fucking carryin’ in a crowd from a goddamn block away, Red, but you can’t somehow tell there is a knife in the sink?” He sank the now cleaned and sanitized knife in the butcher block roughly. “And that’s hardly even a fucking paper cut.”

Matt wrapped a tiny band-aid around his finger with a murderous expression. It wasn’t the look that he usually gave Frank when they bickered. This was the kind of expression he usually only got when he talked about Fisk. If Frank had been in a clearer mindset, he may have taken that look for what it was and backed off. That squared off jaw of Matt’s never meant anything good, but he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he put the box of band-aids and small tube of antiseptic into the draw and walked away silently.

Like a moron, Frank assumed that was the end of it. In his mind, silence equaled surrender. He didn’t find out otherwise until he found his ammo crate missing along with his husband. Only one was going to come back home hours later.

Day 23

They hadn’t said more than two words to each other in five days. No explanations. No apologies. No arguments. No sweet talk. Frank felt more like he had a cellmate rather than a husband. He spent his time doing push ups and reaching out to a few suppliers he had to replenish his stash. Matt, on the other hand, was doing what legal work he could between his late night parkour runs. Neither of them seemed like they were on the edge of breaking the silence, but in the back of his mind, Frank kept hope that Matt would fold first.

He didn’t.

Frank had been watching Matt click away at his keyboard for more than an hour over the top of his magazine. One of the things that had attracted him to Matt—even before he knew about his connection to Daredevil—was his determination. Once he had an idea in his head, even a bullet couldn’t knock it loose. It was—despite the sometimes ludicrous ways he acted on his ideals—one of Matt’s best traits. With a heavy sigh, Frank tossed the magazine onto the stack he’d been reading out of.

“I guess,” he said wearily, “I don’t get why it set you off so bad. It was an accident. I didn’t think you’d get cut, and I don’t know why a nick like that got you so fucking pissed at me. I just don’t understand.”

Matt didn’t turn from his work, but his shoulders did slouch and his fingers stilled. “You’re right, Frank, you _don’t_ get it,” he said dejectedly. It took him a minute to face Frank, but when he did he looked sad rather than angry. “Everyone who has found out about my senses has treated me like I’m sighted. Like this is the equivalent of color blindness or needing glasses, but it’s different than that. I am blind. I can do things that even sighted people can’t but that takes an insane amount of focus and intent. I shouldn’t have to pretend to be abled in my own home, Frank. Not with my husband.”

Guilt fell into Frank’s lap like a fucking bowling ball. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Matt held out a hand to stop him.

“I guess a big part of it is my fault for not ever saying it out loud, but I don’t know...” Matt’s words faltered.

“I’m nodding,” Frank said as he bobbed his head up and down. He wrapped his arms around Matt’s shoulders lightly. “I assumed that it was all automatic—y’know, instinct or some shit. I never asked questions because I always thought you’d think I was patronizing you. So, yeah, you should have told me, but I should have asked too. Guess we’re both assholes.”

For the first time in days, Matt stepped fully into Frank’s embrace.

“You’re still the bigger asshole,” he whispered into Frank’s ear.

Day ???

It wasn’t the sunniest day. The sky looked like it could open up on them at any minute but the streets were full. Even though the pedestrians weren’t butted up against one another, like they had been before, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say all of Manhattan was out and about. Lockdown had officially been lifted earlier in the week, and slowly but surely, people were starting to emerge into the “new normal.” It was a tense kind of peace, but peace none the less. New Yorkers were a resilient bunch. Matt, Frank, and Max were no exceptions. Quarantine had tested them. There had been fights, make ups, and even a shredded pillow (Max’s way of protesting the lack of dog park trips), but they’d made it through.

They’d decided to make the most of the first almost nice day since the whole thing had started by taking a long walk to the park and then a stop for ice cream on the way home. It was probably the longest Frank had ever stood in line for a scoop of mint chip, but he wasn’t complaining. The whole thing wasn’t completely over, but if lockdown had taught him anything it was to keep his damned mouth shut and appreciate the little bits of good in the world.


End file.
